Like Ice Breaking
by Isabelle
Summary: It's a dark life for Riddick and Kyra after he brings her back from the UnderVerse.


**Like Ice Breaking **

by Isabelle

Fandom: Chronicles of Riddick (Pitch Black)

Rating: NC-17 (light nudity, cursing)

Pairing: Riddick/Kyra "Jack"

Disclaimer: I am not owner of Riddick or anything in the Riddick universe, this is a fiction for fun by a fan.

Spoilers: Both "Pitch Black" & "The Chronicles of Riddick"

Feedback: send to It's a dark life for Riddick and Kyra after he brings her back from the UnderVerse.

"Why did you save me Riddick?"

She asks him that every night. He never answers.

She stops speaking to him when the moons shine their bodies over the cloudy sky.

He'll stay next to her, supplicating with her for some answers, with some idea of her shadows but they won't come. Not on those nights. Those nights are evil and gray; drowning in the fact that she was once dead. The minutes are short and pass quickly before the animal within him starts to wrestle with its humanity and he leaves their room. He leaves their chambers and runs himself away to be as far from her hot skin as possible.

She loves him, he knows. He's always known. Even if the very word makes him sick to his stomach. Makes him sick because he knows mainly he saved her for love. He went there, into the depths of hell and pulled her life back into her corpse. Because he couldn't live without her, because there was no driver in the driver seat of his sentiments.

If there was no Kyra; then Riddick dared not live.

He comes back to her three nights after she blends herself with the walls of their room. He comes to her and something changes. She's a woman once more; not trapped in the fumes of hell of fighting for her life in endless dungeons. She's just a woman that yesterday was a girl.

He comes and she kisses him; kisses him like no woman ever has and he is sure none will. None have loved him like Kyra loves him and he knows that. That she's an animal to love an animal and by the bites, scratches and bruises he sports daily she's just as animalistic as he is. God ripped her from his rib and shaped her to be his replica. How can he not treasure her and her green cat-eyes?

Sometimes he'll just stare at her and nothing more. It's moments like that - that he'll break down and no longer be Riddick. He'll just be him and Kyra will be just her and it'll be ok.

Moments like now when he'll no longer fuck her but give her a piece of the shifting muscle called his heart.

He would've sworn that Robert B. Riddick was born heartless. That he was ripped from that commonality just because of his deeds. It's fucking funny how life works.

He'll always call her Kyra but in his mind he screams "Jack". He almost liked the vulnerability. He liked the innocence that he knows she lacks now. Jack needed Riddick; Kyra needs a good fuck.

And he does; he does fuck her until his dick is red with rash. She'll still wriggle and ask for more. At times she's more than he can handle and he feels her slipping away; like he isn't enough for her, like he'll ever be.

He hates this; he hates what she does to him - he hates that she makes him lose control, that she makes him be weak.

"Do you dream?" she asks him that night. Her shoulders are slacked and she's gazing zombie-like out of the window.

"In color," he responds. She doesn't like his teasing games, she tires of them.

At another time he would've left her. He would've left her like the hoe-bag she can be. But she's fucking encrusted under his skin. He's shed tears for her, more than he's ever done for any woman. More than he'll ever do for anyone. Plus; she's still his Jack no matter what name she calls herself.

"Do you hurt me in your dreams?" she asks. Her voice is nearly a whisper of truth. She knows the truth, she knows he hurts her, that he dreams of her bleeding and broken. That instead of Lord Marshal spearing her it's him. He's her murderer, and he stands above her dying body and laughs.

In those dreams.

In those dreams he wakes up sweating, barfing and needing to hold her.

She lets him hold her; she knows. Sometimes he believes she's come back inhuman. It's something in the way she looks at him.

They'll never be fucking normal. Never.

"Nah, baby. I dream of us in pretty pink colors with sachet and shit."

She is silent and continues her ominous stare out of the window.

"I like it when you hurt me." with that she rests her head on his shoulder and grabs his prick. She falls asleep just like that.

If Riddick were honest and truthful he would say it both scared him and thrilled him.

There is a part of him that hurts. It hurts him she's changed so much, it nearly kills him to death.

But he holds her, he holds her regardless. He could never deny his Kyra anything. Not even himself.

She's fragile now. Not in body but in soul. Her soul is hanging by the thread of nightfall and she often falls. It's beautiful to watch her fall, she's a wild animal trapped by her own hell, poisoned by her own mind. He loves it, he loves the pain it causes them both.

He could live in this world of denial where the Universe is but a blank slate in which to paint with blood. They could; they could paint it with blood and mercury and it would be alright.

He hates that he cares; he hates that he would die if anything else were to happen to her. She made him weak.

Riddick the invulnerable.

Now Jack.

Now Kyra.

Now his Achilles heel.

Come to poison his bloodstream made out of iron; he both loves her and hates her yet he would die for her.

She wakes now in his arms and gets restless. Like she's overdosed with his presence, like she needs to get away but can't help but claw her nails into him to keep his hard body against hers.

He loves it when she claws; when she scratches deep and leaves blood.

They're made to bleed; both of them. It makes them feel alive.

She rubs her ass over his crotch and he knows what she wants. He easily gives it to her, roughly opening her and impaling himself on her until she's mewling like a good little kitten.

He fucking loves it.

He fucking loves her.

Fucking scratches his head, leave tiny traces of red blood and he fucking loves it.

They don't speak, they simply emit animalistic-like sounds that fill their dark room.

She growls as she comes, her legs on his shoulders, hands on his head.

When they're done and many minutes after that they lay in a pool of cum, sweat and blood.

She'll become semi-normal then, softly running her palms over his chest, his face, his ass.

"You feel unreal," she'll whisper to him.

He says nothing; his gaze is clouded but he can see her clearly in the dark. She's a goddess to him.

Naked, lush and strong.

"I would dream about what you would look like... how you would look like this... here, with me." her words are slow but it's more than she's spoken she's her re-birth.

She then looks are him, really looks at him. Her own pale-green eyes melting into his silverish ones.

"Why did you save me Riddick?"

He moves to hold her against his chest, to shut her up, to make her be silent. Because he can't sit and contemplate what she means to him. What her life means to his.

"Let's leave tomorrow. Go someplace nice," he suggests.

He never suggests things like this but he's desperate; his skin is shaving off his bones and he doesn't know where to turn.

"You never answer my question, Riddick."

"Kyra, you know the answer."

"I want you to say it."

"Then fucking keep waiting."

"Fuck you," she says with all her calm.

And he smiles.

This is how he likes it; he likes them raw, he likes them apart yet inseparable. He needs to touch her at least fifty times a day. Touch her skin that is. It's smooth, cool yet rough and cold.

He can't describe it so he touches it continuously, touches it until it lulls him to sleep.

"Take me to the dessert, Riddick," she demands of him one day. She walks into his throne room, dressed in a pale blue gown that leaves little to the imagination.

The other men in the court stare at her; it's true she's stunning. She's twice as beautiful as Dame Vaako and twice as dangerous.

He feels jealousy; a concept he's never felt before towards anything or anyone. He feels it with her; he feels she's his and that she belongs to no one - even their stares and thoughts are intrusive.

She's his.

He's fucking possessive now.

"Kyra, get dressed," he grows as he roughly walks to her.

By the time he reaches her she's smiling coyly at one of the commanders and he's boiling inside.

She lets him grab her arm and drag her to their room. Before he can close the door he's on her, ripping her designer gown into pieces and burying his face in her chest. She arches to him and temps him, controls him with her jumping breasts.

"I hate this dress, I fucking hate it." he growls at the offending material; biting it between his teeth and ripping it.

"You just hate that every other man can see what you have," she breathes to him; rimming his ear and suckling on it.

He shivers, grabs her thighs and pulls her into the bed.

"You're having nothing of me, Lord Marshal until you take me out- take me to the dessert." she demanded, denying him her lips.

He roughly grabs her face until her feline eyes are staring serenely at him. She's not afraid of him. She knows he'd never hurt her; not really hurt her.

"Why the fuck you want to go to the dessert?"

"Because it's empty, just like me," she states, walks away from him and puts on something even more provocative.

When he found her in Crematoria and she claimed not to care it hurt him.

Her emptiness killed him because he knew no matter how close she got he would never fill her.

He couldn't ever fucking fill her.

He took her out into the dessert; she was hidden behind a large cape but when his men left them and it was just them too she stripped her coat off to reveal her nudity.

He was going to reprimand her but she started running, naked upon the sand dunes.

She was stunning; she was beautiful; he fucking loved it.

When she stopped, she turned to look at him and with one look that said too many words he placed his goggles on and ran after her.

It was the brightest day of his life; a man and woman who preferred the darkness bathed in sunlight and covered with sand. She had laughed that day; bright and airy - and for a moment Riddick was prepared to turn into a weak asshole and start love declarations.

But the night came too fast and it swept over them both, they were living in borrowed time - and they both knew it. Ever since escaping that planet they knew they were living on borrowed time.

Their moods changed and though he wrapped her well, back in her coat they said not a word when they re-entered the ship and sailed once more to Hellion Prime.

Many things had annoyed him that day, but most of all was the lack of Kyra. He should've known something was wrong, something is always wrong when times are too quiet, too fucking peaceful, too fucking great.

Dame Vaako entered his throne room, alone with a slight frown on her face. He instantly knew something had irked her out of her composure. The fake bitch.

"My lord," she had started. His skepticism grew. "The high lady is ill, my lord."

He was never one to be accurately aware of his stomach, but today - in this moment - he felt it drop to his feet. He moved quicker than he ever imagined. He was in their chambers within seconds, his eyes searching the dark room for her.

"Kyra?"

"She's ill, my lord." a Necromanger physician told him, coming out of the shadow.

"Where is she?" he was so... nervous, he was shaking.

"I'm here, Riddick."

Kyra came out of the utilities chamber, in a white bedding gown - her face as pale as the clothing's color. Life was nearly gone from her face.

In two strides he was before her, peering down at her.

"I'm pregnant, Riddick."

His reaction was instantaneous.

"Get the fuck out," he ordered the physician. The man quickly scurried out of the room. His head snapped back to Kyra who has left his side and was strolling to the bed. He followed after her.

"I didn't think you'd be pleased," she told him, her voice echoed in his ears.

She was fucking right.

She was pregnant. He wasn't truly surprised; he'd fucked her more than he'd fuck any other woman in his life.

"So I asked Doctor Philemon to bring me a potion to my room... it'll happen tomorrow. You might want to get busy and disappear."

He was hearing her, he truly was but his body felt like it should be doing more than just standing around like an idiot.

"You can say something, you know." she was already under the covers and accommodating herself in.

He had nothing to say. "Out of words."

"You usually are."

He struggled at that moment. He truly did. And he lost.

He crawled under the covers with her, almost enjoyed how she jumped to the surprised and fell asleep with the scent of her hair in his nostrils.

The next morning he woke up and she was gone, he had never slept that well in his entire life. His brain always working, his thoughts always running.

"Kyra?"

His voice was alone in their large dark room.

Then fear.

He could smell fear.

But he'd never smelled fear coming from him.

She'd fucked him up good now. He rushed out of the bed, and looked to the bathroom first.

But he didn't feel her. He could usually feel her, taste her even sense her in the light of the blinding day.

"Kyra!"

"What's wrong with me, Riddick?"

He jumped out of his skin, another new sensation for him.

She was standing before the large balcony that looked out into their empire, covered in only a black silk sheet.

"Nothing's wrong with you," he lied.

She knew his lies. She'd lived off his lies for years. She knew him better than anyone will every know him.

Perhaps that's why he hunted her soul down from the UnderVerse and back.

Because... because somehow Robert B. Riddick was desperate to feel that closeness, that need and dependency. Maybe he needed love... maybe he would die without it; or worse, die without ever knowing it. He'd be dammed.

She'd changed him since the moment she looked at him with those large green eyes of hers and placed her entire life in his hands without waiting for a response from him.

He had let her. Because it felt... different.

But the entire thing turned out to be much more than just a thrill ride, it turned out to be soul cleansing that hurt like fucking hell.

"I think... I think that I was meant to die that day, Riddick." she turned to him, clean and almost pure. She was almost 12 again.

"You weren't meant to die," he said roughly. He didn't want to contemplate it, he didn't want to think about it, he didn't want it imagine his life without her girly voice, without her lips and without the scent of her hair.

Life was dark without Kyra ... and the darkness... well the darkness was getting old.

"I'm not a child, Riddick," she demanded of him.

"I'm well aware of your womanhood," he hissed, passing her and placing either hand on the veranda.

"Then why wont you answer my questions?" she nearly cried.

"Kyra..." he warned, his jaw twitching.

"It's just like that day you left me... remember, Riddick? You fucking left me, all alone - 12 years old." she was crying now, he could tell. Her tears tasted like the salted apples. They smelled like them too. "God, I loved you. I loved you even then."

His internal turmoil was sizzling loudly.

Her voice softened.

"I would've always been with you..." she placed her head on his back and he stiffened. "You would've carried me in your heart and I would've been ok." Her small powerful hand came up under his arm and she laid it across his heart. "You would've have never been alone."

"I don't go by fucking feelings, Kyra," he pulled himself from her.

She was watching him with sad eyes.

"But you do... your life is guided by them whether you like it or not... you feel. You feel too much or too little. But you feel."

His teeth were grinding and he was very tempted to pull her head off her shoulders so she'd stop talking. But then he'd had to rescue her in hell once more. It wasn't worth it.

She'd stopped talking.

He was pleased.

"Goodbye, Riddick," she said softly.

That phrase. That phrase hurt him.

"Kyra." he tried.

"No, I think it's best. Sure, the sex is great - I have no complaints ... but I can't give you what we both need and you refuse to give me what --"

"Look at my hands!" he roared.

She was startled and so was he; he was surprised with his own self.

"Look at them!" he placed them before her so she got a good look at his rough, battered hands.

Her eyes were wide and questioning.

"They're covered with blood, Kyra." he said, calmly - as if he knew this years ago and had no problem with it. "Including your blood."

"You had nothing to do in my death - that was my own doing." She looked down. "I was ready to place my life in the line for yours... but then again you've always known that. It's why you've always kept me at bay. You would never let me get too close... but you failed."

She came closer until he could accurately smell her. He knew he had told Dame Vaako she had smelt beautiful; but Kyra smelt like the heaven he would never known. That was irreplaceable, it was indescribable.

"Because I've always been close. You've known it; I know what you feel for me, Riddick. I know those feelings have evolved as time has passed, as I've grown up. I don't know what made you change... but I do know you're no longer the same man who landed in T2 all those years ago."

She placed her palm on his cheek and his eyes automatically closed.

He hated this. She made him fragile; she's made him vulnerable... because of this his life now had a time-tag. It was now only a matter of time until he would die... before he would've lived forever. To care not is to die not. He had liked that theory - until he had first tasted her mouth the day he brought her soul back.

He had sampled many mouths; devoured most of them - but her kiss was a beacon of unspeakable capacity. It had shot right through him - something that made even his knees quake.

"You do this to me... you make me -"

"Weak?" she answered for him. Then smiled.

It was a rare occasion when she smiled. Truly smiled. Amusement smile.

"Riddick... love doesn't make you weak. It makes you stronger." she took his hand, which was cold and shivering. "Would you have survived the UnderVerse had you not loved me?"

Fucking hell.

He didn't have a response except for exceptional reflexes.

She let go of his hand and brushed her hand over his lips.

"I think we should name your son Inman. What do you think?" she mentioned most casually as she walked past a very stunned Riddick.

Kyra walked back to the bedroom, her mind working on overdrive. He had changed for her; now it was time she learned to live for their son.

"Kyra," he warned.

"And take me far away from here; if Vaako wants this let him have it - take me where no one will find us."

"They'll find me. I'll always have Mercs on my back." he looked at her. In his eyes she was a vision in pink - always soft and inviting.

"Then let me take enough credits to always be the highest bidder. I'll keep you in chains... whip you twice a day."

"Sounds like hell," he smirked, grabbing her by the waist. "Just my kind of place."

She placed her hands on his head and rubbed her palms over his prickly scalp.

"Tell me you love me." she demanded.

"Why?" her mouth was tempting.

"So you can fucking admit it," she said, rubbing her pert little nose over his chin.

"You think I'd go into the UnderVerse and back for a good fuck?" there was a smirk playing on his lips - his eyes shinning in the dark.

"Is that Riddickish for I love you?"

This time he smiled and kissed her. Like she needed to be kissed. As he fucked - and indeed it was a good fuck - he loved her.

Then he took her and their ship as far away as he could muster. They'd find them. They'd fight. They'd win.

And hell - they'd love.

He'd figured she's fucked him up anyways, he'd also figure that he'd cry many more tears, but most of all he felt his shield breaking - like ice breaking over stone floors. She'd pick up the pieces, kiss them and then glue them back together.

Like she always did; like she'd done since the moment he started caring - like she'd planned it and mapped it all out until he was nothing but putty before her feet.

Yeah. He kind of liked it.

The End?

A/N: Probably my first and only Riddick fiction unless Riddick comes back in a 3rd film and does indeed save Kyra like I think he should. ;) Any feedback is welcomed, please don't archive unless you ask for permission. Send feedback to 


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